


don't try

by akamine_chan



Category: Bandom, Gerard Way and the Hormones, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:02:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3635943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/pseuds/akamine_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Mikey's in rehab, Gerard struggles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't try

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a recent (March 2015) interview Kerrang did with Gerard - the ever wonderful Turps transcribed the questions about Gerard playing with Mikey again and dealing with Mikey's rehab while on tour [here](http://mikeyway-daily.dreamwidth.org/575724.html). Which, a strong kick right to the fucking feels.
> 
> Also, this [video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vEQrMl1d07E), the look on Gerard's face when they hug at the end. 
> 
> Beta work by Ande, as ever. <3
> 
> Warning for discussion of substance abuse and addictions.

_i love you_

Gerard knew that it would be a while before Mikey would have access to his phone, but he couldn't stop himself from reaching out. Habit ( _fear_ , his brain whispered) had him fiddling with his phone constantly, checking it almost compulsively, even though he _knew_ there was nothing there. When it did _beep_ , he fumbled with the phone, biting back his disappointment when the screen didn't flash Mikey's name.

_i miss you_

"Gerard." Lindsey touched his arm, gently, so gently, like Gerard was something delicate, fragile. "You know. . ." She took the phone away from him, set it on the table with a muted click.

"Yeah, I do. I just—" His words failed him, not for the first time. It was the fear that silenced him. He'd spent years in therapy learning to deal with his fears, teaching himself how to live large in spite of them. But this was _Mikey_ , who'd fallen so far, hitting rock bottom before any of them had realized it. "I—"

"I know, baby." Lindsey led him into the bedroom and eased him onto the bed, wrapping him in her arms. She was so strong, she made him feel safe, and he let himself relax, a little. She stroked his hair away from his face, pressed kisses to his temple. "It's going to be all right."

He closed his eyes and wished he believed her.

_im sorry_

He was, for so many fucking things.

For not recognizing that Mikey was struggling. For not being there when Mikey needed him. For letting things get to the point that intervention had become necessary. Mikey had always been Gerard's to take care of, and he'd failed Mikey, on so many levels.

Gerard tried to pull back, put some distance between himself and Lindsey. He hid in his office and found reasons to stay up working while she went to bed. He steeled himself to ignore the hurt that shadowed her face, and she left him alone for three days.

On the fourth day, she took Bandit over to a friend's house for a playdate and came home spoiling for a fight. He forgets, sometimes, that she has a hell of a temper, because he worked hard to keep her happy. 

And because she knew him so well, she took in his unwashed hair and rumpled clothes, the slouch of his shoulders and used her words to _cut_ through the haze of guilt he'd wrapped around himself. "How much longer are you planning on hiding in here?" She gestured to his desk. "It's not like you're getting anything done."

He felt raw, like every nerve was exposed. "Just leave me alone!"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You did _not_ just yell at me," and her tone had him on the defensive, because he _had_ just yelled, and that wasn't how they did things.

He took a deep breath, trying to be reasonable. "I just need some time to—"

"To what, Gerard? Brood? Blame yourself?"

"I should have—"

"Gerard." She reached out and touched his face. "He's family. We _all_ should have. But we didn't. So now we pick up the pieces, fit them back together, and wait for them to heal." 

He wanted to argue that it wasn't that simple, but he didn't have the energy.

_please don't be mad_

Gerard vaguely remembers being in the throes of his own addictions, all those years ago. 

He remembers Ray looking at him with concern, his forehead furrowing in worry as Gerard staggered onto the stage for sound check, already wasted. Frank had been too busy wrestling with his own demons, and Bob had been too new to feel comfortable asking questions.

Mikey—Mikey never said much of anything. There'd been the occasional twitch of his bony shoulders, a simple "You okay?" Gerard had nodded in return. Anything more required introspection and reflection, and Gerard was not willing to do either.

Brian, though. Bri had no patience for any bullshit, and every time he'd pull Gerard aside to talk about his drinking, the guilt and shame would twist in Gerard's stomach, making him feel worthless. He wanted to hide away from Brian's knowing eyes, but instead he'd dig in his feet and refuse to admit there was a problem.

They'd get into screaming matches, driving everyone out of the bus, and he remembers how much he _hated_ Brian for harping on the booze and the pills. Gerard hadn't been able to see the concern and worry in Brian's eyes; it'd always felt like Brian was attacking him for not being good enough.

The idea of Mikey feeling that way about him—the idea was unbearable, and Mikey being incommunicado fed his anxiety and fear into a never-ending spiral that he couldn't break out of.

_do you hate me?_

He hated himself.

Gerard wanted a drink, _needed_ a drink. Instead, he let Lindsey drop him off at AA meetings and he spent endless hours on the phone with Grant, with Frank, with Ray. With Alicia, who shared the unspoken burden of guilt and regret with him.

He got ready for the tour, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. He considered postponing some of the dates, pushing them back, but Jeff talked him out of it. 

His mom called, late one night, and they swapped stories about Mikey.

"Do you remember, Ma, when Mikey got his leg stuck in the chair in Aunt Marie's house?"

She laughed, her voice husky. "Remember when he shoved that button up your nose? You were furious, and Mikey couldn't stop laughing."

"It wasn't funny," Gerard said, still feeling disgruntled. They'd had to go to the urgent care, and the nurse had scolded _him_ , and there'd been needles.

Donna inhaled, and Gerard breathed with her; he could almost taste the smoke, feel the nicotine in his blood and somehow, it soothed his ragged nerves. "He's allowed visitors," she said.

Gerard bit his lip, trapping the words in his throat. _does he hate me?_

"He looks good," she finally said. "Better. Not so brittle."

The sound he made was nothing close to a laugh.

"Gerard, honey, our family—we got more than our fair share of problems. We love our booze, we love our pills, and we're very good at fucking things up." She took another loud drag off her cigarette. "But you and Mikey, the two of you are the best things that ever happened to us. Your dad and I are still not sure how we got so fucking lucky, but here we are."

"Ma—"

"He's going to be fine."

He took a deep breath and clenched his hand to make it stop shaking. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she said.

_love you too_  
_don't be stupid_

His phone _beeped_ and _beeped_ , and Bandit grabbed it before he could. "No phone during dinner," she scolded, and moved it out of his reach. She was right, that was the rule, but right now he was regretting the whole idea of family dinner time. He looked to Lindsey, who clearly had no sympathy.

"What else did you do in class?" she asked, and Bandit chattered away happily.

He took a deep breath and let it go. Family time was the most important thing.

_not your fault_

The phone _beeped_ again and Gerard couldn't help but flinch. Luckily for him, dinner was just about over.

"C'mon, Lady B, let's clean off the table and then we can work on your dinosaurs," Lindsey said cheerfully. They were making a diorama for Bandit's class, and Bandit rushed to help Lindsey with the dishes.

Gerard fumbled for the phone and opened his text messages, sagging back against the chair. While he sat there, two more messages came through.

_therapy f'ing sucks_  
_don't want to talk yet_

Gerard _knew_ that feeling, when you were starting to get back on your feet, and everyone was waiting for you to stumble and fall again. He understood, but still, it stung a little.

_ok_

It wasn't okay, really, but lying to Mikey by text was easier than trying to explain.

_no words_  
_can't talk yet_

Gerard held tight to his phone and told himself to be patient.

* * *

"I'm thinking of going to Japan."

"Oh?" Gerard shuffled through some magazines, trying to figure out what had prompted him to buy them at the little news stand outside of the hotel. He couldn't fucking _read_ Japanese, and context was non-existent. Unless James had bought them. . .

"Yeah," Mikey said diffidently. "Hang out with you, check out the sights, celebrate a year being sober."

"I would fucking love that, Mikey." Gerard paused. "Do you think you could play a song with us?"

There was a long silence, long enough that it centered Gerard's attention. He suddenly realized that maybe it was too soon, that Mikey wasn't ready for being on stage—

"I think I would like that." There was something fragile, hopeful in Mikey's voice, and hearing it made Gerard smile.

* * *

". . .and Mikey, why don't you come out?" 

The crowd went absolutely nuts, and Gerard couldn't stop grinning, it felt so good to have Mikey on stage with him, it felt _right_. Mikey looked pretty happy, pumping his fist into the air and working the crowd.

"Mikey's gonna play a song with us, it's called _Don't Try_."

Mikey was a little restless, nervous; they'd talked about that during soundcheck, but he was still smiling as Jarrod and James started the intro, and the song exploded into life, Ian and Mikey kickstarting the song. 

He couldn't take his eyes off of Mikey, tracking him even out of the corner of his eye, and it felt so fucking _good_ to have Mikey at his back.

The crowd loved it, a constant roar of cheering and screaming, and Gerard egged them on, gesturing for them to be louder, and they _did_. As the song wound down, Mikey planted himself in front of Gerard and _played_ , and Gerard still couldn't look away. 

The last notes were still thrumming and he pulled Mikey close, hugging him tight, feeling his eyes sting at how perfect this moment was, playing music with Mikey again, having him whole and healthy and happy.

-fin-

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] don't try](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3641922) by [argentumlupine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/argentumlupine/pseuds/argentumlupine)




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